2.6

First Day of Track Practice-

I woke at 5:15 am to the sound of the other coach calling me. The moon was still out. I yawned as I dressed and moved dazed out the door toward the dorms. I could hear murmurs as I neared, and as I turned the corner, 200 girls stood huddled, talking, waiting to run. They got up by choice. With some quick instruction from the head coach, we were off. One thing the coach said to the girls before we left was, "you're going to keep us entertained with some good music, right?" Yes, was the reply. I didn't really know what this meant. We began slowly at first, our feet shuffling to the sound of the coach's whistle in army like cadence. Beep...beep...beep...beep. Then came the music. Two hundred Ugandan girls began to sing out in versed cadence , again similar to that which one might hear from an army troop. We plodded on and on. The verses kept coming, moon beams continued to reveal our way down the dirt roads, and the girls continued running. In the States, every neighbor would have filed a serious noise ordinance against us, but here, the houses we passed seemed untouched, undisturbed by our cadence. I was surprised at how well they did. We walked/jogged for almost an hour, and most of the girls, I think, hadn't ran probably since football ended months before. The Ugandans just believe they can, or maybe they don't know they can't? All the girls either ran in beat-up sandals or barefoot. On the brick/dirt road, I don't know which one would be more difficult. No complaints though. No complaints about the road, the shoes, the time, nothing. How could I complain then either? I simply thanked God for the opportunity to experience a sight and sound that is so hidden, yet so beautiful. They even mentioned me in one of the songs, "kobi Paris, Paris, willi abolo, kobi Paris, Paris, willi abolo." (Mr. Paris, Mr. Paris, we're telling you to buy us some bananas!) Thank you God.

2.5

Okay, one more quick story:

One of the new aspects for me here is budgeting money. Let's just say, the first month I wasn't exactly "financially responsible" and found myself a little tight. Well, I had only a couple shillings, and had to make a game time decision about food for 2-3 weeks. I was in one of the cities, and happened to see some Arabian cereal. Well, I had to make a decision. Cereal, which may last...I don't know. Or rice, which would definitely last me 2 weeks.

Let's just say 2 days later my cereal was gone and I was thinking back to that rice I could have gotten.

Live and learn.
(I wrote another new post about my first day of school that is below this one, just thought I'd supplement a little)

2.4 (maybe)

My first day of teaching-

I didn't know what to expect. Out of 40 girls in my bio class (which is a really a low number considering the national average is, I think, 65, and I have seen a class of 120 students with one teacher), 10 were there. the rest, I think, are probably working the fields, helping their families find money to go to school. The Ugandan Ministry of Education hasn't payed the government teachers in 2 months. There is a lot of financial tension. I think there have been talks of protest. Still though, some of the students were there. They were dressed in the maroon and white school uniform which they'll wear each day. Their heads, all shaved. School policy. When I asked a question, they spoke softly, if at all. I don't think this is uncharacteristic for Ugandan women. Heads down, no eye contact, soft spoken. Is it right then that I ask them to look up and speak loudly, boldly? I think a fifth of my words are lost in my English accent. They giggle in groups. Is this a trait common to all girls? I don't know. When I step into the classroom, they're studying. If I was to dismiss class early, they would continue studying. What manner is this? I almost don't like it. I want to yell, "Go outside girls, go play and get into trouble." But that wouldn't help. It wouldn't help them get into the universities. So much emphasis is placed on their final exams. They have to do well or the university will pass them by. Is that all there is to hope for? University? Is that the sole reason we're studying? Isn't it hypocritical for me to chastise this way? Don't I greatly value the degree I have? So they study. They study in the morning, afternoon, and by the few electric bulbs which illuminate the classes at night. When the power isn't there, they study by lantern. These girls' work so hard. We were setting up a net-ball court (similar to handball) and after marking the dimensions, the girls began to dig the outline of the court with hoes. They keep up the compound, they sweep, sometimes I think they're a lot tougher than me. But this is what is expected of them, and I think, every student. Some try to sneak out of the compound at night. I'm secretly cheering for them when they try. But I'll stop them just the same. So soft spoken. So...timid, coy. Why? Is it lack of self-confidence? Is it simply custom and culture? How will they respond to this new, white teacher trying to get them to learn in a different manner than wrote memorization? Perhaps they'll rebel. Perhaps my next 2 years will be a fight to get someone, anyone, to voluntarily answer a question aloud. Bueller...Bueller...anyone...Bueller.

I've actually been teaching now a little over a week. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing a good job. Sometimes I think I stink it up. One of my classes asked me to sing a song for them one day. I did. Next time, Im going to hit them with the classic masterpiece "Regulators" by Mr. Warren G.

I teach two classes of what is 8th grade math, two classes of sophomore level biology, and 2 classes of 8th grade P.E. That's right kids, think of your gym teacher in school...that's me. I'll get a whistle, I'll make the kids do sprints, and heck, I'll probably have a presidential fitness test where if the kids can do 60 sit-ups in a minute they'll get a signed letter from the President! Names such as Mrs. Brooks, Mr. Her, A.C., Ed Morris, Stan Fraze, Ed Fox...the legends of gym class. Get my name ready for the record books!

The kids also asked me to tell them a story one night.
I told them about TP'ing houses and Halloween. I don't know if I'm a good teacher sometimes. In fact, I think sometimes Im a bad teacher.

I'll put my address again in case anyone wants to write. Even if I don't yet know you, I'll write back.

Hunter Paris, PCV
Ikwera Girls' S.S.
P.O. Box 54
Apac, Uganda

Peace up, A-town down
hp

2.something

I think this entry might be long. you don't have to read all of it at once. Heck, you don't have to read any of it ever. My new address is posted at the beginning in case any of you feel daring enough to drop a letter in the box with ts address posted on the front:



Hunter Paris, PCV

Ikwera Girls' s. s.

P.O. Box 54

Apac, Uganda



I have been at my site for over 2 weeks now. The students are currently on break until the end of May so I've had some time to meet the community, read, move into my house, think, run, and prepare for the coming term. I've also had time to cook. It is not an enormous secret that the main staple of my diet in the States came from either a bird named Sonny or a Leprechaun named Lucky. these friends did not travel with me though to uganda and i have been forced, in a good way, to begin cooking. my fist attempt came when i wanted to roast groudnuts (g-nuts). the bottom of the bowl i was using was completely charred beyond recovery. my second attempt, rice. slightly soggy ,sticking to burned bowl, but enjoyable taste. my third try, beans. after an hour of cooking i decided i didn't want to wait any longer and consumed beans that weren't quite hard, yet weren't quite soft. also, the beans had created a difficult film on my now burned bowl . since this time, i have had successes and failures, and i think my skin is beginning to smell like rice. but im learning. also, I can make a mean millet porridge.



my home is in the shape of two squares side by side. there is a wall though between the two such that in order to enter square two, you first must exit square one and go outside to the door of square two (its amazing how you can write something that you're pretty sure no one will understand, but because you see it in your own head it's justified to leave it written). in square one is my bed, desk, clothes, 10 spare bic pens, sink, and bathroom with toilet and shower. i am very thankful for all of these items. it is a great blessing to have the running water. in square two, i have a couch, books, chairs, and a separate room for my kitchen where i have a two burner gas stove set up that i think i forgot to turn the gas off of the other night, creating quite a smell in the kitchen, and probably an unsafe environment. also, in my bedroom, if you have sent me a letter i put your letter's envelope up on the wall. so if you want on the wall, do the right thing and write a letter!



in the past week, i have been blessed with the opportunity to get to know some of my fellow teachers at the school i am working at. most everyone i have met has been ostensibly very kind. this has prompted numerous thoughts and questions. the question, "why" comes back again and again. people have said they are happy i am here, some have been very kind, some have been very thoughtful, even when i have done seemingly nothing. so why? the hopeful side of me thinks that perhaps their kindness is a reflection of their true character. so far, i have seen the ugandans as a very friendly people, perhaps their warmth is an extension of this. the cynical side of me wonders if their kindness comes with a cost. does their outer warmth mask inner desires? do they want something from me? do they expect me to provide for them somehow? the fearful side of me wonders if i'll be able to meet their needs and expectations (i know that without God i will certainly fail, and that whatever good happens is because of Jesus). the humble side of me is simply enjoying the fact that each day, i am given the chance to meet a people i could never have dreamt of meeting. i know that i too am not without inner motivations, expectations, and desires. perhaps they too wonder of me.



soccer. soccer(which henceforth will be referred to as football) is an amazing sport. i have a book entitled "how soccer explains the world," and though i have not yet read it, i think i am beginning to understand it. the other day i was in a room (approximately the size of two Carroll high school classrooms) with 300 ugandan men, who, in uncharacteristic fashion, all had their shirts off and were screaming, cheering, and even arguing with each other. at 10:00pm we were watching manchester united vs. arsenal. european football. on the street, every 10th person is wearing a football jersey. kids play the game in back alleys with balls made from rolled up trash, and in very special occasions, you get to ride home on the back rack of a Hero bicycle, under the African night sky, on uganda's unnamed dirt roads, and think about the game you just saw, and the African man whose whole body went into gyrations when Christiano Ronaldo of Manchester put the ball into the back of the net from 30 yards out.



okay, i've got a little bit of extra time going here so i'll talk about running also. God has allowed me to run each morning so far and what a blessing it has been. do people stare? in abundance. do some people make comments? of coarse. but it's amazing. I haven't really found a circular route yet. their aren't a lot of roads which connect other roads. just one road going north-south, and one road going east -west. the roads are scattered with villages. i pass a group of thatched-roof huts. the women and children are already up, hoes in hand, preparing to head to the field for work. the huts pass by. im alone on dirt road with african swamp all around. another set of huts. another family heading to the field. someone says "ibuto aber." I reply, "abuto aber." this get snickers as it was a test to see if the munu knew the language. the sun is starting to come up. though i was cool at the start of the run, by the end i know i will heat up. i pass a school. currently vacant, but i wonder if, in 2 weeks, there will be hundreds of kids who yell as i pass. i don't dwell on the thought for long. im trying just to enjoy.

2.0

Northern Uganda-I heard from one of the volunteers here that the longest civil war in African history is the one that is currently going on in northern Uganda. Political factions have been fighting for years, people have been displaced, children have become soldiers and slaves to the sexual desires of many. Families have been torn and people have become enemies.

Years ago, the Peace Corps pulled it's presence out of northern Uganda. Until today. The rebel forces have been pushed largely into the Congo and Sudan, and parts that were before unsafe, have been deemed safe for travel and for livelihood. I have been given the special honor of being a part of the first group to go back to this land.

Aesthetically, northern Uganda may not be on top of all the traveling guides. The place is flat, dry, and in the dry season...hotter than a hornets nest. But I think the people may make this the greatest part of the country. I have only been here for 5 days, and so perhaps the best I can do is tell what I've heard from others, and what I've seen.

For many reasons, that may or may not be justified, the people of the north are not the same as the people from the south, east, and west. I was talking to a woman from southern uganda about the people from the north and she described them as people without human hearts. She said she feared them and that the war had made them a tough people. However, I have heard another side as well. I have heard they are a people of solidarity, that the war has formed bonds like brotherhood between a suffering people. I have heard that if there is only one fruit in a class of students, they will either share, or not eat. They often don't eat I think. This is the people that I have been given the opportunity to know. These are the people that I see right now as I look out the door, people cutting lumber, selling fruit, and carrying 30 chickens tied by there legs upside down on one bicycle. I can't wait. There is certainly some trepidation, but Im trying to trust God, trying not to mess up, and trying to really listen. I have no idea what will happen. I know that I am thankful for the encouragment of many.

On a similar note, I have moved into my house. On another post I will try to describe the housing, and maybe even post a picture, though that may never happen. For now, lets just say that I couldn't get my mosquito net hung up so I slept the first night with it wrapped around me like a blanket. Also, I've been eating a lot of peanut butter.

The nearest "munu/mzungu" to my house is about 40 km away. This is my fellow Peace Corps Volunteer. Mike is a former PC Volunteer from Kenya, and pretty much, he is money. Recently, Mike and I went to the nearest city to pick up some supplies, and to make a long story short, we wound up hiring a 70 year old man to push a wheelbarrow filled with 145 pounds of propane 800 meters up hill. He is a tough man. I am now sleeping in a place called "The Fortress" with this propane tank next to my head.

hp

1.6

okay, lets do this.

so two days ago we moved out of our homestays and headed to Kampala to swear in as official volunteers. This was a bittersweet time as it meant that I was nearing the time when I would go to site, but also, that I was leaving a family I had gotten to know over the past 8 weeks. As I left the Mayanja family I became aware that they had really taught much. I think that before, I had this underlying belief that somehow families in Uganda were different from american families because they were underdeveloped and dealt with all sorts of exotic diseases on a daily basis, so how could they have things like hopes and dreams? But I was so wrong. I saw hopes, dreams, sorrows, deaths, and familiy solidarity. also, I saw a woman who could easily snap the heads of two chickens while sifting rocks out of rice.

one day ago we had a meeting at the peace corps office and then were given 4 hours to buy essential items for our homes that we would need when we arrived at our sites. with these instructions, I purchased some heavy insecticide, cockroach-deterring chalk, mouse/rat poison, and a mosquito net. My friend from Kentucky purchased irish whiskey. That night, we had dinner at the hotel and met our site supervisors for the first time. My site is in northern uganda, and I will be teaching at a secondary school. Prior to this meeting that is the bulk of what I knew. My supervisor is named Sister Alobo. That's right kids, I will be teaching within a catholic mission. but hold on, there's more. Apparently, the ugandan ministry of education has recently requested that american males teach at all girls schools (for cultural awareness purposes maybe?). Well, the Peace Corps has answered that call. I have 3 brothers and no skill with talking to ladies, but as of tomorrow, I will be a teacher of 300+ girls from apach, uganda. unreal! God is so creative, and I am really excited.

today we swore in as volunteers in front of our supervisors and a representative from the U.S. embassy. many of the volunteers then went to their sites, but because our trip will be so long, we did not want to arrive at night, so we will wait until tomorrow morning to throw our stuff into a big van and head 7 hrs to the north. It's kind of cool when I talk about going to the north, it makes me feel like I am "from the north" like in Lord of the Rings. Speaking of Lord of the Rings, on Easter Monday the town of Wakiso had a special showing at the local theatre (which is not what you are thinking of) where they were showing all three movies back to back to back, with a live VJ interpreting of the microphone English --> Lugandan. They began this marathon at 8pm! Yes, I payed my 200 shillings. No, I did not make it through even the first fiilm. The place was packed though.

Tomorrow the four of us going to the north will throw our stuff on a van we rented and head up to the districts of apac and lira. i think I have said before that I am really proud to be a part of the group going to the north, but I have not yet really explained why. Today, will not be that day either. Hopefully, my next post will be about the north. That may be in quite a number of weeks though. During that time, I want people to think about why I may be excited to go to the north , and then post your thoughts. Unless your name is Neeko or Justen or Scot. Then do not post your thougts. also, if your name is Kurt (especially Kurt), then consider yourself black listed. actually, you know what, im thinking about the people that may be reading this (which I don't know why you would) and lets just go ahead and consider everyone blacklisted. unless you work for Briton or have birthed 4 boys (3 of which are suspect).

Oh, Sister Domitilla did tell me that the site where I am going is a swamp land and infested with mosquitoes. Good thing I picked up those supplies.

One last thought. Marc Buwalda once told me that if he were president he would require all people to listen to Idioteque by Radiohead. I recently was involved in a sort of party where I had control of the music. To begin the dream of Cardinal Buwalda, I played this song, which I love, to maybe 50 Ugandans. The result...not what I had hoped. Perhaps they aren't ready.

1.5

Let me first apologize for two reasons: 1) there is a blatant lack of consistency with the posting of messages. Im trying, sometimes though I just do not have access to the internet. 2) the postings of one, Justen Paris. The man is a mystery to me, I know that he is scared of me, but because Im not currently in the country, he thinks he can say whatever he wants. He is wrong though.

So I saw a dead cobra in the road the other day. Hmmm. Two days later I saw a moth the size of Allen County (the greatest county in Indiana, though our county emblem in Indianapolis is not as sweet as some of the other counties, but don't let this fool you)

I am aware that, for the most part, the bulk of my posts are somewhat superficial and rarely fail to crack the surface of thought and inquisition. This isn't by intention as much as just by the fact that I'm filled with questions (or what I feel may be questions) and cannot offer a lot of insight into answers or even developed thought at this point. It's like I've got this onion, and I'm trying to remove the skin to get at what's underneath, but the skin is jut endless, there's something keeping me from really getting at what I want to know, or even to ask.

I've been reading East of Eden as of late, and once I get passed the fact that the Chinese man reminds me of my college roommate at Hope and that the character Adam reminds me of a certain man I know named Adam, there is a theme that I wanted to ask about. Throughout the character interaction, there's this idea that the way we see people is not necessarily the way they really are, and that often, we simply see people how we want them to appear. If we want them to be good and perfect, we miss that they do wrong. If we want them to be bad, we let go of the good they do. Our underlying desire shapes them, more so even than truth. Im thinking about Africa. There is so much that I have seen, and so much that I want to see. There is so much that I want to know, I want to come to know God more. But how can I be certain that what I'm seeing is what's truly there? How do I, or you, know that what I am interpreting and coming to understand is honest, and not made up by me to confirm what I wanted to believe? I think this is a deeper question than I understand, perhaps even one that shouldn't be asked (are there questions that shouldn't be asked?)

I made a toilet cover out of banana leaves. It was awesome.